It was after midnight on a Wednesday and Paris Blues, Harlem’s oldest surviving jazz bar, was standing-room only. The dive has remained, stubbornly, much the way it has since it opened in 1969. There’s neither a cover charge nor fancy cocktails and patrons can help themselves to barbecued chicken and other comfort food for free. In the corner, Samuel Hargress Jr, the 81-year-old owner who lives on the premises, was holding court in a fedora and tweed jacket.

“I’m old-old-school. Things are real different now to when I came along,” he said. Since purchasing the bar for $35,000, Hargress has been a central figure in one of New York’s most historic – and rapidly changing – neighbourhoods. Though his establishment maintains a local following, these days it’s famous enough to attract international visitors. “You’ve got people from all over. Everybody here’s partying and dancing. They don’t know each other but it don’t matter.”

Harlem, throughout all the waves of gentrification and forced migration, has maintained a sense of itself

Nico Wheadon, director, Studio Museum

Harlem’s history has long been marked by waves of new arrivals and change. Over the years, it has been home to everyone from George and Ira Gershwin to Duke Ellington. Before it became a haven for African-American intellectuals, poets and musicians during the Harlem Renaissance in the 1920s and 30s it was a stronghold of Jewish luminaries, many of whom were displaced by rapid development on the Lower East Side. After a period of decline in the 1970s and 80s, the neighbourhood is once again a hotbed of cultural activity.

“It’s an evolving community. I’ve been here since 1980 and it didn’t just change overnight,” says John Reddick. A Harlem historian and preservationist, Reddick leads neighbourhood walking tours.

“A lot of tourists have all this baggage and it takes a certain willingness to get beyond that. They think I’m just showing them the nicer side of Harlem, even though these buildings have been here for more than 100 years. I get this all the time: ‘Where in Harlem should you not go?’ There’s nowhere in Harlem I would not go.”

Reddick urges visitors and newcomers to make a more meaningful connection with the existing community, whether by visiting a local church or enjoying the free art and live performances at Marcus Garvey park, St Nicholas park and Jackie Robinson recreation centre. Above all, he hopes that everyone who comes gains an appreciation for the neighbourhood’s near-mythic quality and what that has meant for different generations.

“Look out of your window and it’s like this Fred Astaire-and-Ginger-Rogers view,” he says. “There’s this exhilaration of being in Harlem; this sense that you’re part of this great metropolis. I feel it now, so you can imagine what it must have been like in the 1920s or 30s for somebody such as the poet Langston Hughes.”

While there is much that Hughes would still recognise, it is impossible to ignore some of the changes. As with almost any neighbourhood in Manhattan, particularly one marked by handsome, turn-of-the-century brownstones and broad boulevards, Harlem’s property values have skyrocketed, causing residents to question what the future holds. A recent attempt by developers to rebrand the desirable area between 110th Street and 125th Street as SoHa resulted in a backlash by activists. Yet despite the Whole Foods on 125th Street and the queasy spectacle of a townhouse going for more than $4m, Harlem and its cultural institutions have managed to hold on to a distinct identity.

“Harlem, throughout all the waves of gentrification and forced migration, has maintained a sense of itself,” says Nico Wheadon, director of public programmes and community engagement at the Studio Museum on 125th Street, which showcases work by African-American artists. “That’s because in its essence, it is an artistic, creative place. There is a history of struggle and protest to maintain that.” As with the National Black Theatre, another important Harlem institution, the Studio Museum turns 50 this year.

Some of the efforts to maintain a sense of community have been quieter endeavours such as The Laundromat Project, which provides support for local artists and hosts programmes in laundromats and other public spaces. Another small startup is Hot Bread Kitchen, a non-profit project based in La Marqueta in East Harlem that provides female immigrants facing economic insecurity with a living wage, job training, and support.

Meanwhile, the Studio Museum is in the process of redefining itself, moving beyond the walls and connecting with the broader public through art installations in parks and libraries, creative workshops talks, and even dance parties, such as its popular summer series, Uptown Fridays! Though the museum has shut its doors (there are plans to demolish the existing property and rebuild on the same site) it remains an active part of the community and has links with El Museo del Barrio, a Spanish Harlem art showcase.

As with many Harlem residents, Wheadon finds the neighbourhood fulfils most of her social and entertainment needs. For an evening out, she heads to Vinatería, a stylish Mediterranean spot or 67 Orange Street for cocktails. She’s equally in love with the classics, from the amateur nights at the Apollo Theater to live music at Showman’s Jazz Club (375 West 125th Street), which she says feels “like the Harlem that I imagined before I moved here. It’s a time warp.”

Change has, in part, been driven by Harlem’s thriving culinary scene. At its forefront is Marcus Samuelsson, the celebrity chef behind the Red Rooster restaurant, its subterranean sister venue, Ginny’s Supper Club and the Streetbird Rotisserie. Born in Ethiopia and raised in Sweden, Samuelsson spent eight years learning about the neighbourhood prior to opening Red Rooster, attending church events, eating at places such as Sylvia’s – a soul-food staple opened in 1962 – and listening to residents.

“When you think about the Studio Museum or the National Black Theatre, you’re thinking about this incredible depth of art, of music. We want this to be a destination for food as well,” Samuelsson says. “For me it was about working where you live and creating jobs to restore your community.”

Samuelsson’s talk of community is more than lip-service. He works closely with the Careers through Culinary Arts Program, a programme that helps disadvantaged teens enter the restaurant industry and is an integral part of Harlem EatUp!, an annual food festival that highlights both established chefs and small-time food entrepreneurs. Samuelsson respects the older establishments, though he does not view the broader range of options as inherently negative.

“You have ramen restaurants now, you have mixologist bars, you have craft coffee and I think that’s great. A community should be able to have both. You want it to be a place where people who live there don’t have to leave to go to a great place,” he says.

Likewise, Wheadon feels optimistic that the neighbourhood will continue to hold onto that in the future.

“Someone asked me the other day: ‘What is blackness to you?’ I said: ‘It’s celebration.’ I can’t walk to or from work without being swept up in somebody’s something,” she says. “There’s something beautiful about that and I think that Harlem will always have an element of that.”

At Paris Blues the scene was certainly one of celebration. As the night wore on, musicians from nearby bars stopped by to jam with the band. Although Hargress is constantly approached with offers from developers, he has no intention of retiring or selling the joint.

“I have fun with them. One guy offered me $6m,” he said, adding with unrestrained glee, “So I told him, you come up with $10m, then maybe you can call me back.”